He groaned for the third time in an hour, plopping himself down onto a nearby chair to rub at his ankle which he had twisted once again. It seemed his displeasure was not shared with his partner, as she only laughed, her smile lighting up the room.

"Come on, Harry, we nearly had it!"

"Hermione…"

"Oh, please, Harry! Just one more try!" She grabbed his arms and he halfheartedly refused before grinning and letting her pull him up.

The music began again.

Harry was doing a fine job of ignoring his Potions essay before Ron tossed his unsurprisingly-light bag next to him and brought him back to reality. He forced himself to open his eyes and confront the blank parchment laid out before him.

There was something evil laid within Potions essay, he just knew it. Snape must have imbued his essays with all of the hatred he felt for children. Why else would he immediately forget every single thing he had ever learnt when he tried to write?

He was so busy cursing Snape that he almost didn't notice Neville's dreary arrival at the table.

"Alright, Nev?" Ron said, far too cheerfully for someone who Harry knew had also not started his essay.

"Still looking for a date," Neville said, pulling out some parchment littered with scratches and lines. "Every girl either wants nothing to do with me or has already got a date."

Ron nodded. "True. Oh! But you know what I heard?"

He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, shaking him a bit. Ink splattered on his bare parchment.

"I heard from Seamus that he heard the Parvati twins say that Cho Chang isn't going to the ball with Diggory! Apparently, he's going with, er… well, word is it isn't Cho."

"Cho Chang would rather go with a troll than me," Neville said dismally.

"No, no! Harry, you can ask out Cho Chang! Then you don't have to go with Hermione and Neville could go with her instead!"

It might have been the essay, or the fact that Ron shook him again, causing even more ink to paint the paper and surrounding desk, but Harry felt anger prickling his skin. Something about the way he phrased it, 'don't have to go', was making his chest run cold. Ron had a habit of letting his mouth go off but this didn't sit well with him.

He was just about to open his mouth to retort when he spotted Neville's face, which had drained of all colour and was looking fearfully over Ron's shoulder.

Harry knew before he turned to look but he did anyway. And what he did see near broke his heart. Behind him, Hermione stood, books and quills wrapped up on her hands. She must have been coming to join them, to help with their homework (even though she had repeatedly told them yesterday that she wouldn't) and heard Ron's remarks.

And he could tell by the drawn, pained look in her eyes that she had heard most of it. Before any of them could say anything, she turned and carelessly tossed the books onto a nearby chair (which was so terribly unlike her that it made Harry's stomach turn) before walking silently out of the room.

Even Neville, who seemingly had a phobia of confrontation, reached over and smacked Ron's shoulder hard.

Harry didn't listen to Ron's indignant yelp as he gave one look to his never-to-be-completed essay, decided that he didn't much care for school anyway and bolted out of his chair after Hermione.

He didn't think he would have to run very quickly, as he was supposedly right on her heels but as soon as he popped out of the portrait, he was dismayed (and a little impressed) to watch the last of her already disappearing around a corner two floors down.

He went to follow but swore to himself as the stairs suddenly shifted, cutting him off from the next landing and inside, guiding him down towards the first floor. But if he knew Hermione well enough, which he was pretty sure he did, then he knew exactly where she was heading.

Smugly, he patted himself on back on the back as he skirted around the one of the back walls of the Main Hall. Most people who knew Hermione on a surface level might say that she would have gone straight to the library.

This would have been correct, if she had been angry. Harry knew that emotion far better, having learnt from a fairly young age how violent an angry person could be. Ever anxious to avoid conflict, he began cataloging signs of anger in people around him.

It was actually quite interesting how differently people reacted whenever they were mad. Uncle Vernon would puff up like a great bullfrog, taking deep breaths as if he had just run a mile. Ron would turn a deep red and stomp around, slamming things as he went.

But Hermione didn't puff up, or slam things. She bristled .

It was like every inch of hair stood on end (which was saying quite a lot for her) and she just seethed with anger. And that wasn't even the worst part, absolutely not.

No, the worst part was the staring. Whenever she got mad, her eyes would light up and she would just bore holes into whatever or whoever had earned her ire. It was as if she was challenging you, daring you to look at her and admit what you had done.

Thankfully, looks couldn't kill or else he and Ron wouldn't have made it to their second year.

But how she had acted in the Common Room, he knew that she was not only upset, but she was hurt. While she might demand your attention when she was angry, it was the opposite when she was hurt. She didn't want to be seen, curling in on herself and tucking herself away, silent and small. She would escape, running away from the problem, allowing her to lick at her wounds in private.

He knew how it felt, to want to hide away and nurse his hurt by himself but that only made him want to be by her side even more. Because he knew how horrid the sadness could get and no matter how much you tried to convince yourself, secretly, deep inside, you would long for someone to hold you and tell you it was all going to be okay.

He wasn't going to let her cry alone, he was going to be there for her.

He didn't know exactly how to do it but by God, he was going to do something.

Not like the first time he had found her here. It had been during that horrible period in third year, when he wasn't speaking to her. He honestly hadn't meant to find her, he had only been wandering about, letting his feet decide where he went as his mind floated off to other topics. And he had turned the corner of the Common Hall, stepping through the overgrown grass down a little dirt path.

Once he walked around the large left tower and stared at the Great Hall looming in the distance, he was shocked to hear a quiet sniffle from behind him. He turned and saw nothing at first but on closer inspection, he noticed that what he had been leaning on was not just a part of the castle wall but a tall, stone fence with an opening just a few feet away.

Peeking in, he had been shocked to find a small domed alcove, carved out of the true castle wall, slightly overgrown with vines. Unfortunately that was not all that he found. Sitting in the middle of the alcove, slouched on a stone bench with her bag haphazardly thrown on the ground, was Hermione. Crying. She had not spotted him as she kept crying pitifully into her hands, trembling as if it were freezing.

He was ashamed to admit that he had not gone comfort her then, still too mad about a bloody broom of all things but he still had stayed, hidden around the bend. He told himself at the time that it was because he didn't want her to fall into hysterics, and that he needed to be there to get help if she did.

But truthfully? He had been guilt ridden. Still too prideful to check on her but too nervous to leave her there, he just listened.

He absolutely was not going to do that again, especially not now that their relationship was going well. He had just gotten her and he was not going to lose her that easily!

Full of determination, he all but stormed into the small alcove.

And immediately deflated at her sight of her crying.

But this time, she spotted him and let out a small yelp, wiping frantically at her eyes. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry."

He only sighed and took the seat next to her. "It's fine."

For a few minutes, she sniffled and sighed, trying to get her tears under control while he sat awkwardly next to her. He never knew exactly how to deal with upset people and the fact that it was Hermione that was upset only made it all the more worse. Eventually, he carefully placed an arm around her shoulders and sagged with relief when she leaned against him. He had done something right.

"I'll help you talk with Cho."

The sentence confused him. "Erm, that's alright. I'm fine."

"No, no, I'll help. I know you wanted to go with her. I… I'll have a nice time with Neville."

The image of Neville, all dressed up with Hermione on his arm irritated him a lot more than he would ever admit.

"No!" he blurted out before he could stop himself. He cleared his throat and tried again, this time banishing the thought of Neville's arms around Hermione's waist. "No, I-I asked you."

She sighed, a lonely sound but then she turned and smiled at him. "I know, Harry, but it's okay. You wanted to go with Cho, you're always talking about how pretty she is."

Had he really spoken that much about Cho? He honestly only remembered twice that he said something to that effect. "Okay, yeah but I don't know her… like I know you."

"You'll get to know her if you just spend time with her. I'll help you ask her out. There's still time."

He had a distinct sinking feeling in his stomach. Was her refusal because she didn't want to go with him? Was she trying to push him off onto Cho? So she could go with Neville? What was so good about Neville?! What did he have that Harry didn't?! Sure, Neville was kind and smart…

And he seemed to have fun with Hermione…

And talked to her all the time…

They also really both enjoyed Herbology…

Just as his insides started to turn into a thick sludge, a voice in the back of his head started screaming and howling, demanding that he prove that he was better than Neville, that he was the one who was best for Hermione. And because of this, he ended up gritting out a short, "You don't want to go with me."

Hermione was taken back by his tone and leaned away from his grip. "No, Harry, I'd be happy to go with you! But I know you don't want to go with me."

"Says who?!"

Her brow furrowed and she frowned. "I-I… I'm sorry, I just assumed that you had asked me because, well, I'm your only g-... friend who's a girl."

Realization hit him. Could it be that simple? He had thought that Hermione had agreed because she… she wanted to go on a date with him.

He swallowed thickly and steeled his courage for the second time this week. For some reason, it didn't seem any easier this time. In fact, it was even more nerve wracking.

"Hermione, I… I didn't ask you as a friend."

In any other situation, the comical widening of her eyes would have made him laugh. "Harry… I…"

The words refused to come out. Every time he opened his mouth, his throat would seize up and refuse to cooperate. He began to wonder if he needed to say anything more.

When tears sprung in Hermione's eyes, he knew that he did.

"I… um… I know this is all backwards but er… w-would you like to go to the ball with me? Y'know… as-as a date? A real date?"

There were several reactions he expected. His first expectation was for her to shake her head, softly letting him down as she had only wanted to go as friends .

The second one, she would laugh at him because why ever would she want to go with stupid, useless him?

The third, and most hopeful, was that she would agree primly, saying she'd love to go with him and then give him a firm handshake.

What happened, however, was none of those. As he sat stiffly, waiting for her response, she examined him, her big brown eyes almost sparkling in the setting sun.

And then, she threw out her arms, enveloped him in a great hug and kissed him square on the lips.

Too shocked to much of anything else, he placed his hands on her shoulders and stared at her closed eyes. Stupidly, he tried to convince himself that it was an accident, that she would never want to kiss him but then there was a sigh of breath against his lips as she pushed in.

And her lips were so soft. Soft and smooth and so many more words that his brain couldn't dredge up. His breath caught in his chest and he was fairly certain his heart had stopped a few moments ago but all his focus was on memorizing the feeling of her warm lips pressed against his.

His lungs screamed for air but he locked in place, terrified that any move might make her stop and he would have rather pass out than lose even one second of this kiss.

She made a sound, a small noise in the back of his throat and it was like a fire was lit in his stomach. He gripped her shoulders tightly and began closing his eyes but then she drew back, her cheeks red. He might have made a strange croaking noise as he drew breath but he was too stunned to feel self-conscious about it. He tried to follow her to prolong the kiss but stopped when he spotted her nervous expression.

She cleared her throat, hands worrying over themselves as she looked expectantly to him.

"Was… was that okay? I mean, I wasn't thinking, I…"

"Hermione," he cut her off, winded like he had run a mile. "Can I ask you again?"

She blinked. "What, to the ball? Why?"

He leaned towards her and his heart raced as she stood her ground, staring into his eyes. He glanced at her lips, pink and slightly wet as her tongue gave a nervous lick.

"Because I really, really liked your answer."

The sun was just about gone, the last orange light peeking over the trees but her smile was so bright, he could have sworn it was noon. "Go on, then."

"Would you go t-mmh!"

She attacked him again, drawing him against her with a strength he didn't know she had, or maybe it was because he was all too willing to go to her. Laughing against her soft lips, his hands found their way to her hair, which he palmed carefully. Curly strands wrapped around his fingers and he had the strangest impulse to pull at it. But instead, he just buried him as deep as he could, trying to hold her against him as long as he could.

After a too-short moment, she let go, linking her arms around his neck. "Does that answer it for you?"

He pretended to think for a moment. "Well, if that's a 'no', I'm really interested in what a 'yes' is."

Her face screwed up into an adorable pout and she pinched his shoulder.

"Oh, is that it? Rather backwards, if you ask me." he asked, too cheerful to stop his mouth from running.

She pinched him again, trying her hardest to look stern but failing as they both collapsed against each other, giggling like maniacs.